


Drunk.

by AnneLaurant



Category: Gaia Online
Genre: Alcoholism, M/M, Obsession, Possessiveness, Slight Mentions of Gore, greed - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneLaurant/pseuds/AnneLaurant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tonight, just like the other nights, will be a night drowning in each other, intoxicated by each other, drunk on each other." A collection of five drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk.

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Exploring Cresolae and the meaning of ‘drunk’. Scenes aren’t necessarily related to each other.
> 
>  **Warning:** Not exactly a happy ‘story’. Also, a bit of warning for a non-explicit scene of gore for the second, and so many warnings for the third drabble, which is more intense on the psychological genre than the other four.

**Alcohol-Drunk**

 

Cresento savors every bit of his vintage wines, taking in the strong flavor on his tongue and the stronger aftertaste in his throat. He sips, as if merely sampling the liquid; lets it linger in his mouth, getting rid of any other foreign taste; and finally slowly gulp it down, the spice and fire of the alcohol warming up his chest.

He does it for recreation, for special occasions, and for relaxation. He never tries to consume more than a bottle; his tolerance isn’t that high, and it’s bad to let intoxication ruin the mind and rule the body, even for a little while.

He can’t comprehend how others treat alcohol like water, or how they gave little to absolutely zero care about the consequences of ingesting large amounts of the drink. One of said others is Nicolae, of course, who always distracted and annoyed the captain. If the crook isn’t drinking, then he’s either messing up the ship, gambling in some shady place, having fun with his flings, or trying to do illegal business. A complete fool who only knows how to waste his time.

Nicolae chugs in his choice of drink – ‘ _Twerk!’_ it reads on the green can of beer – and leaves his garbage around. He has no taste for finesse or grace, downing his drink all too quickly. Sometimes the liquid leaks a little from his lips, and if the sweep of his tongue across them can’t be called suggestive or sensual, Cresento doesn’t know what it is.

And if there is something that irks the elf way more uncomfortably than – scratch that, these scenarios are the absolute worst of them. There are moments when metallic blue orbs cast their gaze on golden ones, and it seems like they wouldn’t even tear away at all; travel rather leisurely across dark-skinned features and muscles, as if tracing over every crook and cranny visible; and send daggers through expensive, durable fabric, which suddenly becomes way too tight. Then, Cresento feels bare, cold, and indecent in front of his companion, who is clearly thinking of things that belong to the intimacy department.

And at times like this, Cresento feels the need for a drink. Hitting the crook is futile – Nicolae grabs what limb is sent towards him, and brings the taller man’s body close to his, and very unbearably close at that. Their lips lock – ah, the beer tastes way too stale and sweet on a tongue used to the finer and bitter wine – and their breaths mingle – oh, the smell is too disgusting and there’s a mixture of foreign and familiar, but beneath the different layers of odors is the shorter man’s aroma. The elf cannot resist this way.

He cannot deal with a drunk Nicolae when sober, but that doesn’t mean Cresento will be fine fighting fire with fire, which even leads to worse situations. He does not know when enough is enough. Well, at least he has an alibi to explain to his ego the next day why on earth he lets the crook do that to him – he’s drunk.

 

-o0o-

 

 **Gold-Drunk  
** _Please skip this if any mention of gore makes you uncomfortable._

 

Nicolae knows his eyes glimmer with malice when he sees something he can make money out of – he wonders when will his innocent bunch of ‘sources’ notice. Gold makes the world go round, Cash ever rounder, but while Cash is the hardest thing to come by on Gaia, he’ll settle for shiny, splendid gold.

In truth, he can make as much money as Cresento, if the crook ‘tries’ hard enough and slips away more often. He has a lot of ventures, doing multiple shady sideline ‘jobs,’ illegally selling merchandise. The thing is that Cresento’s fortune is also backed up by his family’s, and that money flows out of the crook’s hold more often than it is invested in a bank or saved,  if he’s motivated enough to even save it.

The swindler gambles away his earnings, first in the Gold Mountain Casino, then when their relationship soured, around any gamblers’ place. He isn’t worried about running out of gold. Seeing it shine, laid out before him, holding on to the risky chances of having them – that is intoxicating enough. He’ll earn it back, anyway, and if he can’t do that fast enough, he has the poor elf’s wallet.

When gambling doesn’t satisfy his desire for looking at gold, there’s always the grandiose airship, the Bifrost. Its owner and captain is gracious enough to add touches of gold, whether as a design or as a decorative ornament, all around it. Most of them, Cresento warns him every day not to touch. All of them, dragon-inspired.

Nicolae sometimes wonders if the kitty isn’t elf; if he actually had dragon blood. It is a funny thought, though. In his weird fantasies, the crook often depicts Cresento as some dragon-elf hybrid, wearing heavy robes of crimson and onyx, protecting his hull of gold behind him, with golden scales, a golden fang (though this person in fact has a golden _premolar_ , not a canine), and of course, golden eyes.

Oh, yes; it is the eyes, always the golden eyes. Nicolae takes the golden opportunities (pun not intended) to stare into them. They are far more precious and they shine much brighter than any coin in the Gaians’ pockets. The golden orbs burn with nobility, pride, and ego – they have this princely aura that Nicolae can’t tear out no matter what he does.

But, Nicolae hates them. He even likes to imagine that at the height of pleasure, he pulls them out, keeps them with him, and leaves. Funny that when he finds something he aggressively wants to be his, it can’t be. He cannot take with him the man with the golden eyes on adventures. This tall man, he is too endearingly annoying and attached to his family. He is a handsome beast who affords every luxury, every comfort, everything else Nicolae can’t. They don’t get along.

But Nicolae can’t tear his eyes away. If he does, then once again, he’ll find it on dark skin, then his own body will move and take the other – no further questions asked. Those golden eyes are maddening, piquing his greed much more instantly and so much more intensely than real gold. And just like their owner, he can only stare and fantasize, but still, Nicolae can’t withdraw from Cresento’s eyes, and for some hateful reason, they get him to be, and to act, drunk.

 

-o0o-

 

 **Power/Control-Drunk  
** _Please skip this part if you’re not comfortable reading about possessiveness and obsession._

 

Relationship dynamics can change depending on who ‘wears the pants.’ At least, that’s what Nicolae is taught by his many experiences. He loves his freedom way more than any of his lovers, most of whom hate his many vices and his carefree attitude. And so, he never lets anyone dictate what he’ll do, because he’ll do as he pleases. He and his life are all about the fun.

Meanwhile, Cresento has no real interest in relationships. Why waste time on that? He’s still quite young, anyway. Still, he knows he’ll have control over his potential partner. He has the looks, the status, and the wealth. But the Don controls the lives of his men, and Cresento is one of his men. The half-elf then closes himself off from others, who might try to steal what remains of his precious freedom away.

And that is how Nicolae and Cresento find themselves struggling, no matter what activity they both engage in. From the first time they met, and even until now, they try their hardest to hold on to that control, that power, their ego and pride. Cresento may find himself losing in wordplay to the silver tongue, but Nicolae can get cornered by those stronger hands supported by trained muscles. Sparring matches are fierce; knives can get jerked out of hold, and sometimes one of them may lunge after the other’s neck.

And of course, intimate sessions of proximity and touch can get messy, sometimes a bit bloody. Fists can find their way to cheeks, and feet against stomachs or the nether regions. Sharp teeth may dig into fragile skin or bite soft lips, and bruises. Both can look like they’re deep into enjoying what pain they can cause and what pleasure they can get out of whatever they’re actually doing, but in reality… wait, what’s in reality anyway?

That they try to make the other lose control? There are visible signs. Nicolae will begin to show anger and get harsher with his gestures, and Cresento will begin to get more cooperative. But, it seems that as one gets out of control, the other soon follows. The first man to do so seems to have power over the other one by letting himself “give in” first.

And then, they find themselves somehow getting possessive. When one isn’t around, the other yearns for his presence. When one’s attention is held off by someone else, the other feels the urge to pull his companion away. And of course, in their private moments, alone and left to their thinking and the voices inside their heads, they desire to put a leash around each other’s necks, and be given a leash by the other. Controlling each other, and being controlled by each other - it’s an interesting, intoxicating proposition that neither half-elf nor human will voice out, afraid of the weird balance that they’ve already found.

And there, they end in a stalemate. Neither can fully control the other. Neither can either be free from the other, either. But while they are here, together, they can make do with dancing with the illusions of power and control, letting their usual selves and fronts slip off, entertaining the idea of while being very much sober, they’re also actually very much drunk.

 

-o0o-

 

**Love-Drunk**

 

They don’t know about the other one, and they think ‘he’s just being nice,’ but to themselves, they are both acting out of character for wanting to interpret a little more deeply than that, and the thought bothers them.

Cresento has been far too concerned for someone outside of family.

Nicolae has been chasing after this fling way too tenderly and all too long.

The feelings well up, but the two men keep them inside. In return, the foreign, unexplainable, pleasurable, and painful emotions keep them up at night, deep in thought and miserable in heart.

So they found a confidante in the wooden dragon carving atop a shelf in their store.

Nicolae thinks Cresento is praying for luck in business.

Cresento thinks Nicolae’s head already cracked open.

But slumber is still an issue.

The crazy thoughts manage to intoxicate them, still. Sleep won’t come until they touch each other.

Cresento merely takes a longing look at Nicolae, and the boy will know.

Nicolae merely starts stripping in front of Cresento, and the elf will know.

They say to each other’s face that there are no strings attached. In their minds, they fear it’s their last. In their hearts, they wish it won’t be. All because they agree to keep it a subject not to be dwelt upon.

If only that wooden dragon can speak, it’ll tell them they’re both idiots, and that they’re both insanely love-drunk.

 

-o0o-

 

 **You-Drunk** // **Drunk on You**

 

And at the dead of the night, after a very passionate embrace, they’ll find themselves staring.

Sometimes, Nicolae stares at the room, trying to point out what changes did the elf make since their last session.

Sometimes, Cresento stares at the room, trying to find where their clothes and shoes fell, or if anything is broken.

Often, slender, long fingers play with a cross pendant.

Often, thick, rough fingers play with fluffy white hair.

Usually, their breaths manage to be in sync with each other.

When it isn’t too hot, the younger man lets his arm drape around his partner.

When it’s too cold, the taller man lets his arm wrap around his companion.

But always, gold and blue find their ways to each other. They freeze, locking onto each other, and the paces of two hearts quicken. Cheeks flare up, minds set ablaze, and a fire spreads in their chests. Hands grip the objects they played with, a little bit too possessively, and minds go fuzzy trying to interpret what the eyes see.

More often than not, after, faces are drawn to each other, lips are connected again, and eyes are, finally, closed.

Never will they utter a word. No words are needed, anyway, because tomorrow – no – in the morning, they’ll return to being two men on a job for a certain leader of a gang, tracking down a poor excuse of an air ship, plotting the death of an innocent lad. Tonight, just like the other nights, will be a night drowning in each other, intoxicated by each other, drunk on each other.

Always, it’s a mutual, silent agreement, between two frustrated adults, who signed it, forlorn, bitter, and drunk.


End file.
